


One Week

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Talon!Damian AU [13]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first eight days of Damian's return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Week

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 happens after/is a continuation of _Never_ , and _Father_ would happen sometime after that and before Day 3. I was going to do one for every day but, surprise! I got lazy, haha.

**Day 1 – _The Return_**

Bruce felt his heart leap into his throat. He slammed on the brakes, watching as Jason quickly moved around the car. Damian’s arm swung lifelessly with every step, his head leaned awkwardly against Jason’s chest.

That was him. That was his son.

Oh god, that was his _son_.

He hit a button, and the door opened for Jason automatically. Jason said nothing as he plopped into seat, his face grim as he kept his gaze locked on the boy in his grasp. In fact, it was more than grim, he looked practically…

Jason looked _scared_.

“Hang on.” He heard himself say, punching the gas and speeding down the road. He and Jason remained silent in the journey, past differences forgotten for the moment, as they focused on the raspy, barely-there breathing of the Talon.

The radio kept on crackling, its volume low for the time being. Though Bruce knew it was abuzz with the family, all of them asking questions, demanding to know what Jason’s message meant. Hell, he wanted to know too – how did he find him? What happened? Where’s Owlman?

But none of it mattered. Not really.

He pressed a button, an alert to the cave to set up for extreme medical distress. Then he pressed another, one that he knew would send a loud pulse through the communication network. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason flinch at the noise.

“Rendezvous at the cave. As soon as possible.”

He took the silence as agreement.

When they arrived in the cave, he had barely stopped the vehicle before jumping out, Jason not far behind him, though slightly slower. As he rounded the car, he could see Jason’s features changing. Face blank, eyes glassy. And even from afar, even with masks between them, he could see the memories surfacing in Jason’s mind.

His own torture. His own death. Just lying there in his arms.

Bruce stepped close, listening to Alfred’s footsteps as he came cautiously to the top of the parking lot’s stairs. He put his arms next to Jason’s, pulling Damian’s body towards him slightly. At first Jason seemed hesitant to let go, but eventually did so, exposing his blood-soaked clothing.

“Go rest, Jason.” He whispered over Damian’s groan.

“No.” Jason was absently shaking his head. “No, I-”

“There’s nothing else you can do. Not right now.” Bruce continued gently. “You…you brought him home. You’ve done enough. Thank you.”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning and taking the stairs two at a time, rushing to the medical bay. He heard Alfred’s gasp behind him, felt the older man brush by him and start working immediately, ever focused even through his own shock, pain and elation.

Like Jason, he was hesitant to leave Damian’s side, but it was clear he would be of no help, so forced himself away. As he moved, Damian’s croaking breaths filled his senses. And it was terrifying, because Bruce knew those breaths. He’d heard them every day, through his work as Batman, through the victims he didn’t get there in time to save, through the memories of that day when he was eight.

He knew those breaths. And he knew their implications.

Damian might not make it through the night.

His eyes instantly fell on Jason, just now making it to the top of the car lot’s steps, stare still a thousand yards away. His clothes were so saturated with Damian’s blood they were dripping, leaving bloody footsteps in his wake. He didn’t seem to notice, though. Moving on autopilot.

Bruce knew the feeling.

It was some sort of muscle memory that made him walk forward, made him wrap an arm around Jason’s shoulder and guide him towards the stairs. “He’ll be okay, Jason. You saved him.” He just kept muttering, hoping to reassure both himself and his other son. “You got him home.”

“He said Owlman did it to him.” Jason muttered in exhaustion. The squishing of blood echoed behind them, along with beeping of medical machinery being set up. “That…that monster _did that to him_. And we…we _let_ _it happen_.”

Bruce just closed his eyes, listened as Alfred set up both a ventilator and a heart monitor, and squeezed Jason’s arm in silent recognition of the statement.

~~

**Day 3 – _The Monster_**

Titus began barking three seconds before the manor alarms went off.

“All of you stay here.” Bruce demanded as he stood. Tim and Cassandra were already at the window, clinically searching the grounds around them, but he knew they would listen to the order. He made eye contact with Dick, who nodded as he grabbed Jason’s hand, already reaching for his gun. He then glanced at Damian, still unconscious, even after being moved from the cave to his bedroom. “Keep him calm, if he wakes up.”

“Got it.” Dick murmured, and Bruce could already see fierce protection in his eyes. Could already see that he was willing to do _anything_ to keep those in the room with him safe. “Be careful, Bruce.”

Bruce grunted as he turned towards the door and sprinted down the hall, Titus quick on his heels.

The yard was quiet when he reached it. No sign of a disturbance, save for the ringing sirens. He blindly reached for the control panel by the door. As he punched the code, the screaming bells stopped, instantly replaced by Titus’s growling.

And as he stepped forward, as he glanced up to the bedroom window to see Dick and Jason now standing there, he knew. He didn’t know how, but he did. This wasn’t just some burglar or random break in.

It was going to happen sooner or later. Really, it was just a matter of time.

He put a hand on Titus’s head to quiet him, then: “Show yourself.”

A pause. Almost too long. Almost enough to make Bruce doubt himself.

“Is this how you always welcome home long lost family?”

A shift of the leaves, then a low thump as someone landed on the outer wall. The man wasn’t wearing a mask this time, just the armor, revealing perfectly groomed brown hair and a large grin.

“Hello, Brother.”

And the rage that had been building for the last twenty-four hours, for the last _year_ , burst. He snarled, almost like a feral animal, as he stomped forward.

He should kill him. He should inflict every injury the man ever even _thought_ of imposing on his son on that lying heap of garbage. Because he deserved it, and _worse_. He should give it back to the Owlman tenfold. Stab him in the heart, dismember his limbs. Burn his bones and piss on their ashes.

Titus gave a light woof at his side. Pushed his head against Bruce’s hip.

_Slow down, Bruce._

“I’m looking for something.” Lincoln – or Thomas, or Owlman. He had so many names and Bruce wished he didn’t know a single one of them – hummed, plopping down on the ledge and swinging his legs back and forth childishly. “Thought you might’ve seen it. Tiny, pouty, really bad at fighting back against father-figures?”

“It’s been three days.” Bruce murmured lowly. “You’re only just looking for him _now?_ ”

“It sometimes takes my nephew a while to return to the Court after a punishment.” Lincoln explained pleasantly. “And, even with the Electrum…multiple fractures and the potential to bleed out _does_ make it hard to move.”

Bruce balled his hands into a fists. This freak knew _exactly_ what he’d done to the Talon. To a _child_.

To _Bruce’s_ child.

“Leave.” Bruce ground out. “You’ve done enough damage here.”

“Is the kid dead?” Lincoln asked sincerely. He glanced up, and Bruce watched his eyes narrow in on the only window with light, at the two figures standing guard there. He surmised the answer to the question himself. “Then, no, I don’t think I have.”

“You’ll get what you deserve.” Bruce spat instantly. “And I’ll deliver the retribution myself. But right now, there are more important things here than _you_.”

“Oh?” Lincoln laughed. “Then what are you doing out here, talking to a ghost?”

Bruce didn’t answer the question, instead imparting one last warning. “So, get near him again, and-”

“Oh, _what_ , Bruce? The whole _‘don’t get near him again or else’_ speech?” Lincoln drawled, standing. “How _cliché_.”

“Get near him again,” Bruce hissed slowly, pulling a remote out of his pocket. Lincoln eyed it suspiciously. Before he could analyze it, Bruce pressed a button, and electricity sizzled up the wall. Lincoln’s body jumped and convulsed, and he collapsed back onto the hard stone, sliding off the side and out of view. Bruce turned away, holding the remote so tightly in his hand he felt it crack. Titus let out another low bark. “And I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

He was almost back to the house when he heard a faint: “I’ll hold you to that, brother dear.”

~~

**Day 5 – _The Escapes_**

Dick found Cassandra and Alfred in the kitchen, both of them staring sadly out the window.

“Three times.” Cassandra murmured, as Dick peeked out as well. His eyes landed on Damian, half limping and half crawling towards the fence. “Just this morning.”

“I…” Dick frowned. “I just can’t get through to him.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, sir.” Alfred said gently. “It seems no one can. Whatever the Court did to him, it…it runs deep.” He sighed, but both Dick and Cass heard the sad hitch as he turned back to the dishes in the sink. “I can only hope we will be able to reverse its affects.”

The other two silently agreed, before Dick exhaled. “Well…I guess it’s my turn, then.”

Just like all the other attempts at escape, and the subsequent retrievals, Dick didn’t chase after him. He slowly walked out the door, practically strolled across the yard until he was next to the boy. Damian didn’t even glance at him, continuing his trek towards the wall.

The sweat poured down his face, and his breathing was light and ragged. Dick measured the distance, compared their heights. If Damian went down, he would catch him easily. But until then, like he’s always done, he let Damian do his own thing. Let him make his own choices.

“So…” Dick whistled, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. “What’re you going to do when you reach the wall?”

“Climb the tree.” Damian wheezed. “Jump over.”

“Oh.” Dick muttered. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“…Go away, Richard.” Damian barked. He glanced up through his limp hair – and damn, those yellow-tinged eyes were still spooky. Still broke Dick’s heart into a thousand pieces. Damian let out a few coughs then, and clamped a hand over his side. Dick tried to ignore the blood slowly seeping through his fingers.

“Why do you want me to?”

“Because-” Another fit of coughs. “-I’ve already caused you enough trouble!”

Dick paused in his steps. Damian took a few more before doing the same.

“I…appreciate your care.” Damian panted. He only turned back halfway, refused to look Dick in the eye. “It is quite a change from the Court’s idea of the same concept. But…I am nothing to get a target on your back for. And the sooner I return to the Court, the sooner I return to Owlman and accept the punishment for my mistakes, the less likely they will come after you for your part in my apparent desertion.”

Dick felt his frown deepening, felt his head tilt to the side as sadness seeped into his skin with every word of flawed logic Damian shared.

(God, what he wouldn’t do to have the chance to strangle whoever corrupted his brother’s mind like this.)

“I see.” Dick whispered. “You know that’s…none of that’s true, right?”

“What’s not true?”

“Anything you just said.” Dick took a step forward. “You didn’t desert them, and they know that. You didn’t make any mistakes, so you have no reason to be punished.” He tried to smile, then. Knew it came out wrong, knew Damian probably thought he looked deformed for it, but didn’t care, as he crouched to be level with the child. “And you are _definitely_ worth getting a target on my back for.”

Damian just blinked, swayed on his feet, and Dick knew he had seconds before the kid crumbled. He pursed his lips, blinking rapidly. “…You all keep saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“You all keep acting like you _know_ me. That I’m worth something to all of you, _specifically_.” Damian accused. “Like…like I’m part of your _family_. But I’m _not_. I’ve been with the Court for as long as I can remember. So…so you’re all just _delusional_. And perhaps you all need mental help.” Hesitation. “Perhaps you should all be working towards finding the child you _did_ lose, as opposed to wasting that energy taking care of _me_.”

Dick wanted to scream.

This was their life now. This was their brother now.

“Well, maybe we already are.” Dick choked out, still trying to keep that smile on his face. “Maybe the world is funny like that. And…well, maybe we’re all pretty good at keeping secrets. Maybe there’s something we haven’t told you yet.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. Subconsciously squeezed his hand closer to his side. Blood ran silently to the grass.

“But you’ll only find out if you stick around, I’d guess.” Dick surmised. “Think you can do that for me? Can do that for…for your father?” Dick remembered Damian had found that out, though it was through a drug-induced haze. The jury was still out on whether the boy _believed_ that little fact or not. “At least until your injuries are taken care of…?”

He hadn’t meant to sound hopeful. But he was desperate. This was his brother, his… _his_ boy, and he refused to willingly give him up for anything. _Ever_ again.

Damian nodded, though. Much quicker than Dick anticipated. “Sounds…reasonable.”

“Yeah?” Dick grinned for real this time. He stood, and took a step back, watching as Damian struggled to do the same. “Think you can make it back to the house?”

Damian looked away, back to the wall that was his original destination. Embarrassment was clear in his body language. “No.”

“Okay.” And without asking, he bent back over, scooping the boy into his arms. The journey outside – and the two preceding it – must have exhausted him more than Damian had realized, as he instantly slumped into the curve of Dick’s neck. Dick sighed and leaned his cheek against Damian’s hair, rolling to kiss his temple only once as he turned back towards the manor. Bruce and Tim were both standing at the back door, watching silently, wearily. “No problem.”

~~

**Day 8 – _The Photographs_**

After four more escape attempts in two days – one that included Damian actually getting up the wall before falling painfully back down – it was decided he was going to have twenty-four-hour supervision. They went in shifts. Short ones, and there tended to be at least two volunteers for each. Damian complained much less than they thought he would.

His physical injuries were healing relatively well. Most likely thanks to the Electrum the Court had forced through his veins. But some of the deeper ones remained, and were making it clear that they were going to remain for quite some time.

At least he didn’t need to be on oxygen anymore.

His mental injuries, though. That was a whole other can of worms, and none of them knew how to deal with it, much less start to. The Court had beaten him into submission. Had taken his arrogance and confidence, his self-worth and ability to understand love.

They’d taken his memories, and that might have been the worst of it all.

Because they could rebuild the confidence. Could rebuild his self-esteem and reteach him how to understand love. But they could never replace those memories. The proof of his family. The truth of his importance.

So they did the best they could. They stayed with him. Treated him as they did before, or as close to it as they could. They answered questions honestly, even when Damian didn’t believe a word.

But most of all, they hoped. They hoped that one day, something would get through. A touch, a word, an action. Something would break through those bricks, and Damian would remember the person he once was. The love he once held. The family he once had.

And right now, that’s what Cassandra was running on, as she pattered through the manor, books balanced in her arms.

Hope.

She didn’t bother knocking on Damian’s door, choosing instead to carefully toe at the knob before swinging it wildly open. There were four people in the room. Tim and Stephanie were sprawled across each other on the end of the bed. Dick was sitting against the headboard, arm loosely around Damian’s shoulders as he gently rubbed at it. Damian was leaned comfortably into Dick’s side, and looked to be more or less asleep, a normal state since his return a week prior.

Dick and Tim both jumped and turned to look at her curiously.

“Baby.” She called softly, because that’s what she referred to him as. Because he still wouldn’t respond well to Damian, and she refused to call him Talon. She trotted into the room, perching on the side of the bed, spilling the books onto Dick’s lap as she tenderly took Damian’s hand and gave it a shake. “Baby, wake up.”

“Wha…?” Damian blinked slowly. He shifted in a mixture of attempting to bury further into Dick’s side and a poor try at sitting up. “What’s happening?” He shook his head, watched as Dick picked up one of the books. “What’re these?”

“Proof.” Cass said as Tim and Stephanie crawled up behind her. “You keep saying you want _proof_. That this is your family. That we have loved you for…for a _very_ long time.”

And it was just a little bit precious, how quickly Damian grabbed one of the books, how fast he flipped the cover open in disbelief.

“Cass…?” Tim breathed, glancing over the first page before grabbing one of the other books himself. “Where did you…”

“The library.” She smiled. “Some in Alfred’s room. Some…” A giggle. “Some in _Bruce’s_ room.”

Damian had sat up now, the book clutched in both of his hands, held up to his face. “What are these?”

Dick smiled as he reached around him and turned a page. “They’re called photo albums, Dam…buddy. These are photographs. Pictures.”

And it didn’t take a genius to get Cassandra’s intention.

“That’s you.” Damian identified with a point of his finger. He glanced up at Dick for confirmation, which Dick gave with a chuckle and a smile. “You…you’re not wearing _trousers_.”

“It was a different time. That there’s Bruce.” Dick pointed to the cowled man next to his younger self. “But, uh…Cass? Do you have one that’s more…I don’t know…”

“Got it.” Steph called, holding one up. She flipped it around as she pointed. “See? Here’s me. In all my awesome purple glory. This was like, a year and a half ago, when I took down this _really giant bank heist_ all by myself.”

“Bullshit.” Tim scolded. “I helped you with that one!”

“Yeah, like I said,” Steph smiled gleefully as she handed the book over to Dick. “All by _myself_.”

“You little-”

“That’s you too, Richard.” Damian exclaimed, but quieter. They all watched as his eyes widened, as Damian took the book from Dick with two trembling hands. Suddenly, he mimicked Steph’s earlier movement, spinning the album around for them to see, pointing frantically. It was a picture from the Bunker under Wayne Tower, of Dick and Damian in full Batman and Robin gear, sans masks, working on one of the cars. Dick was laughing, Damian was smirking.

Damian spun the book back around, flicking to another page. This one held a newspaper clipping, a large black and white photo of Batman and Robin flying through the air.

“That’s…” Damian whispered, turning another page. Of Dick and Tim and Damian in a kitchen making smoothies. Another page, Bruce at a conference, with Tim, Damian and Dick in the background. Another, Cass and Damian sparring. Another, Jason gleefully holding a cat above his head, Damian barely in the frame but clearly angry. The tremble in Damian’s fingers quickly became shaking. “… _me_.”

“Mhm.” Dick had never taken his arm away from Damian’s shoulders, and he squeezed his grip now, as he pulled Damian tight to his side. “That’s you. With _us_.”

“When.” Damian croaked. Another page – Damian’s face large in a square frame, Batman, but not Dick, small in the frame behind him. “When was this.”

“Before the Court.” Cassandra whispered, taking hold of Damian’s hand once more. Dick turned the pages for him this time – some gala, and Bruce gingerly kissing a blushing Damian’s forehead. “Before you were taken from us.”

“I-” A new page, a picture full of sweaty faces all crammed together, their vigilante uniforms all clear at its edges, but especially Damian’s bright gold R-symbol. “I don’t remember this.”

Cassandra frowned.

“But.” Damian hesitated on this shot. It was of he and Bruce in the yard, playing with that dog that he didn’t trust. Dick and Cassandra were lounging in the grass nearby. Jason, Barbara and Stephanie were drinking tea with Alfred on the patio. “But you clearly did not forge these.”

“No.” Tim promised. “No, we didn’t.”

“These are real occurrences.” Damian said blandly, running his hand over Titus in the image. “These all…this _happened_.”

“Yes.” Cassandra said eagerly.

Damian looked up, and Dick was forced to close his eyes at the sound of his cracking voice. “You… _are_ my family.”

“Yes.” A new voice said. They turned to see Bruce at the door. “And we always will be.”

Damian dropped back against his pillows, back against Dick’s arm as Bruce moved into the room.

“I’m sorry.” He said mournfully, as Bruce rounded his bed, as he kneeled on the floor next to the mattress. Damian reached out and Bruce instantly enclosed his tiny broken hand in both of his. “I’m sorry I don’t remember. I’m sorry I’m hurting you all, because of this.”

“Who knows.” Bruce hummed lightly, kissing Damian’s fingers before reaching forward for one of the albums himself. He popped the cover, exposing a shot of Cassandra and Alfred making cupcakes. He glanced up at Damian with a warm grin, one he could see was already beginning to chip at Damian’s stresses. He gave Damian’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “Maybe one day you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Talon!Damian stories](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/search/talon%21damian)   
> 


End file.
